


Molly 2.0

by geekmama



Series: Honorable Intentions [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekmama/pseuds/geekmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not a new, but an <i>enhanced</i> Molly Hooper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molly 2.0

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Yellow" prompt.
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“You should keep this one,” Sherlock said, holding up the yellow dress she’d worn to John and Mary’s wedding.

In an effort to spare her injured hand (and really, she was quite _dreading_ the removal of the stitches in two days’ time), Sherlock had condescended to help her clean out her closet. This might have seemed an extraordinary indulgence on his part, but when one thought of the attention he gave to his own appearance the matter became clear: One did not achieve that level of sartorial perfection without a sufficient outlay of time and money. Molly might be his love but, in consenting to a formal alliance, she was also destined to serve as an accessory to his fashion statement. To that end, he’d been encouraging her to cultivate, not really a _new_ look, but an _enhanced_ one: “Molly 2.0”, as it were. (His words, not hers.)

Unfortunately, as she was still living in the flat she’d occupied since before they’d met, there was no longer room in her “ridiculously small” closet for her new clothing. These acquisitions had been made thanks to their burgeoning joint account and Sherlock’s insistence that there was plenty for both the wedding and a judicious makeover. He’d even taken her shopping twice, but his critical presence and the intimidating snobbery of the sales associates in the high-end shops he favored had made her so nervous that she’d gently but firmly dissuaded him from accompanying her on further outings. He’d sulked, but by the end of another week had to admit she was managing perfectly well on her own. Her choices were _a trifle_ _Bohemian_ , but well-made and stylish.

But they wouldn’t fit in the closet.

It had been years since she’d really purged her wardrobe, and his assistance was proving invaluable. He was removing one item at a time, gave his considered opinion of said item, which, happily, often  meshed with her own, and then he would carefully rehang the “keepers” while she would add discards to the growing pile on the bed.

But it surprised her that he suggested keeping the yellow dress.

It _had_ looked pretty on her, and not just anyone could wear that particular color. But…

“Are you sure?” she asked. “The wedding was a wonderful event, of course…”

“But perhaps not a day of undiluted joy?”

He gave a wry smile and her heart ached for him all over again. She knew how difficult John’s absence from Baker Street had been for him after his return to London, even given his immediate liking for Mary, and the wedding had set the seal on this change in his life. It was barely a month later when John had dragged him into her lab at Bart’s, filthy, high, and defiantly claiming this shocking lapse was for a case. The memory of her fury made her a little sick even now -- not that it hadn’t been justified. But it was the beginning of a rift between them that had lasted for months.

But now the wry smile changed to genuine amusement and he put the dress back in the closet and came to her. “You are so bloody transparent, Molly Hooper, it’s like reading a book.”

She felt a flush staining her cheeks, and bit her lip. He picked up her hands (taking great care of the left) and kissed each one in turn, then kept them clasped warmly in his. “That dress,” he said, “reminds me of the first moment I truly acknowledged to myself that I loved you.”

Her eyes widened and she breathed, “Sherlock!”

He nodded. “It’s true.” He took her in his arms. “But it wasn’t that you looked beautiful that day -- like a ray of sunshine come to life. Nor was it the terror and encouragement I could plainly read on your face as I gave my… er… speech.”

She smiled up at him, at that memory: a truly _unique_ discourse. But… “What was it, then?” She had to know… this was such an unexpected revelation…

He bent closer, a glint in his eye, and his voice was low, and very intimate as he said,  “It was, my Molly, the moment  you stabbed your fiance in the hand with your fork,” and kissed her.

  
  
~.~


End file.
